CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: LIVING IN MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO

Wherein a Board is breeched, genius is revealed, and Asian subjugation encouraged!

 

 

 

 

Applause rippled through the Board Room, Jennifer brimming with confidence as she led it like a triumphant orchestra conductor.

"Mr. Kempler, as you can probably tell, the Senior Management team of Artemis Solution Systems is most honoured to welcome you as a member of our Board of Directors. Would you like to say a few words?"

The older man, quietly commanding in charcoal grey and pinstripes, nodded affably. "Thank you, Ms. Page. It is my great honour to do so!" Continuing in a schooled English, his gaze swept the room, granting each sitting executive a second of careful consideration.

"Let me first express my sympathy for the untimely passing of Senator Faulk. The Senator's judgment and vision will be sorely missed at Artemis and I can only hope to offer a fraction of the Senator's own contributions to the Artemis Board. The only solace we may take is that she passed away in her sleep and experienced no discomfort in her final moments. She will be sorely missed."

The European respectfully paused before continuing. The heart attack had led the news the previous month. At sixty-three, the Senator's demise struck all as far too premature.

"When Jennifer reached out through young Mr. Downe here, I couldn't have been more surprised."

"Mr. Kempler, please- you seemed the perfect fit for our future plans," the aforementioned executive interjected. "When I proposed your candidacy to Ms. Page-and she asked me to get in touch- and you indicated an interest-well, it almost seemed-"

"Like a natural fit," Jennifer completed her corporate lieutenant's sentence. Taking the floor again, she continued with a tiny flicker of impatience. "When Hunter drew my attention to Mr. Kempler's credentials, they did indeed seem a perfect fit for Artemis. As we look to the next stage of our development, Mr. Kempler's background and connections will help guide us to further growth. If I may quote Allison's press release, Mr. Kempler's experience is extensive and impressive. As Director-General of the Baltic Foundation, General Manager of the Globex Consortium, and already a member of multiple boards, Mr. Kempler will open many, many doors for Artemis. If that's all, I must excuse myself as Allison has organised a studio shoot for me for the upcoming investor tour. Mr. Kempler, welcome and thank you for introducing yourself to our top team. I look forward to seeing you at our next Board meeting, where I'll introduce you to your fellow Board members!"

The older man clicked his heels and inclined his head slightly to the CEO, whose impatience momentarily melted.

"Thanks for this." Downe's eyes followed the last of the Artemis executives as they headed for the elevator, leaving the Board Room empty now but for the two men.

"It's nice to get out of the office once in a while," the older man admitted. "Operations felt the fare unduly excessive though. I overruled them-an ex-senator seems a pittance to pay, especially if what you suggest the return on our investment might be. How far along are you, my boy?"

Hunter flicked a finger as he counted off each one of his conquests. "I have Consulting, HR, Legal and now International. The big piece is Technology. That's my next focus."

"Because you're leaving me with the remainder of the Board replacement project?" Kempler's tone was wry, knowing and amused.

"Well, only if you want to...." Hunter's response was sheepish. He'd obviously been caught.

"Typical-leaving me with the less interesting work, which YOU have been assigned to begin with. No, no-never mind. I'm happy to handle it. You continue to play with your little mice, which you seem to be having so much fun with, while I handle to harridans on the Artemis Board of Directors. Jennifer seems like putty in your hands. Frankly, for such a female barracuda, she seems surprisingly easy to manipulate," the older man observed, a little troubled. "You've managed to take control of a large chunk of her own company with barely any push-back."

The younger man smiled. "Jennifer's distracted," he explained. "She's already spending her IPO cash-out and her ego is in fifth gear. The new team I've brought in is doing a far better job than their predecessors and I've managed to make myself indispensable to her. She thinks she's the smartest person in the room and she will continue to do so right up until the end."

Kempler absorbed this, then patted Hunter's shoulder kindly. "I have a plane waiting. Will you need anything else?"

"Since you offered," Hunter smiled, then proceeded to describe the request and the reason for it.

"Another field trip?" Kempler chuckled. "File the request through SC channels and I'll approve it."

 

 

 

 

 

Deborah hadn't wanted to go. She didn't want to be here. Shooters was a dive, which seemed to be its chief appeal to her own boss, as well as van Engen and Perkins. They were slumming, showing their female staff a 'good time' as a form of managerial beneficence, which the girls were supposed to respond to with slavish gratitude.

"Please Mr. Downe-I'm really not in the mood, ok?" she'd pushed back when he'd told her they were all going out for after-work drinks.

"Now, now Debbie-you don't have to worry. I'll pay for your drinks, ok?" His hands were on her shoulders now, kneading them. She'd had to become accustomed to his unwanted touching, her undisguised revulsion proving no deterrence whatsoever.

"But I'm tired, Mr. Downe- I just want to go home!" she had protested.

"It's Thursday, Debbie-and your boss is offering to take you out for drinks with your co-workers. For you, that's a big moment in a little life. Now, before we go, I know you'll want to go freshen up. Go on, and when you come back, I want a smile instead of a frown. No more Debbie Downer!" With that, he swatted her backside and she'd scurried off to the restroom, without another word.

"Drinks?" It was the cocktail waitress. Deborah wondered how the middle-aged woman had managed to squeeze herself into an outfit more suited for a teenager.

The men all ordered single malt scotch, then van Engen, arm around an excited Foxy, suggested pink champagne for the girls. Amber Baldwin, on her young superior's left, seemed ready to object, while Val, on his right, licked her lips.

"Gin and tonic for me, please," Deborah insisted.

van Engen's brows rose and Downe laughed. The waitress waited, pen poised, waiting for Hunter, who nodded.

"Why not?" he asked, now draping his own arm around her waist.

The waitress departed, then returned with a tray full of drinks, a bottle and champagne flutes. As the girls all sipped their drinks quietly, the men conversed.

"Kempler your guy?" Jackson Perkins asked.

Hunter nodded but said nothing. Deborah felt his hand slipped up from her waist and cup her breast. She was mid swallow and choked briefly, before taking another, deeper swallow of her gin and tonic. It was hitting her hard, she realised. Except for the infrequent bottle of discount wine, she couldn't afford to drink these days. As she felt Downe gently squeeze her breast, she took another hard swallow. She was getting tipsy and was glad of it.

"How are those Key Exec contracts going?" he asked the new Corporate Counsel.

"Val?" he asked, knocking the question to his new deputy.

"Uh, they are all drawn up and waiting for presentation."

Perkins brushed her cheek appreciatively. "She's a very good number two. The contracts are ready-they'll tie up any senior exec who tries to jump ship. The non-compete clause will prevent them from seeking just about ANY other kind of employment outside of Artemis and by tying it to their vested shares, they pretty much have zero chance of refusing. Still, Jennifer might be tricky. Why should she handcuff herself like this?"

"Leave her out of it." van Engen jumped in.

"Johnny's right. Have your girl," he pointed at Val without looking at her," get on to it."

Perkins laughed. "She's real good at getting on things, aren't you babe?"

Amber paled and nodded, sagging back into the booth.

Foxy giggled, quaffing her pink drink and rubbing into her own boss, the insufferable South African who now seemed to practically own the formerly prim and independent black professionalism.

"And how about me?" Val demanded waspishly, to which Perkins responded with a finger on his lips.

"Secretaries should be seen and not heard-got it?"

Valerie Lyons stuck out her tongue but remained silent as ordered.

Another gin and tonic, unordered, was placed in front of her. Deborah picked it up and took a drink, desperate for the distraction. Downe's hand had taken possession of her breast quite openly and showed no sign of relinquishing it. Like the other women at the table, she was less a participant than an object of affection or at least lust.

"Why don't you two dance?" It was Perkins, ordering the unenthusiastic Amber and Valerie to their feet and shuffling towards the empty dance floor. Awkwardly, they began to gyrate woodenly to the club music, attracting admiring consideration from male customers at the bar.

"G on Foxy-you too." van Engen demanded. "Watch my ghetto girl twerk her ass off!"

Foxy rose, a sly smile for her superior and did just that, twerking her body with openly advertised sexual hunger in front of Val and Amber-but with eyes fixed on van Engen.

"Little kaffir sluts need the white cock," he shared with his male colleagues, as Deborah repressed herself. "it is in their genes," he added, winking at Foxy.

Downe gave her breast a possessive squeeze. "How about you, Debbie-want to go twerk with Foxy? You want to show me your stuff?"

"We ought to take them to Pussywillows," van Engen suggested. "It's Amateur Night. A hundred bucks for first place-a fortune for these girls!"

Perkins shook his head. "Watching these two dance like strangers suggests I need to conduct another 'get to know you' session for them." Perkins rose and started to pull a bill from his wallet, but Down waved him off.

"I've got it. Have fun Jackson!"

The young lawyer's smile predicted just that as he gathered up his women like door prizes and propelled them towards the exit.

"What about it, Debbie? You could really use that hundred-do you think you have what it takes?"

Her boss, hand on her breast, was asking her if she was willing to strip in front of strangers in the hope of winning a hundred dollar prize. She was quite drunk now and, she noted with alarm, her body was growing responsive, with a hint of sticky moisture bubbling between her legs.

"I- I have to go home. I think I'm going to be s-sick." She wasn't, but she had run out of other ideas.

Downe's hand released her breast and, cupping her chin, looked into her eyes with concern. Finally, he winked and smiled slyly.

"Thanks ok, Debbie. We'll give you a pass this time. We'll get you an Uber-ok?"

She nodded with intense relief. Tossing a hundred on the table, Hunter stood up, while van Engen snapped his fingers, summoning Foxy back to his side.

"Is the party over?" Foxy asked, disappointed.

Drawing her into him, van Engen shook his head. "Party is just starting, my ghetto angel. And you're going to shake that tight, chocolate ass at Pussywillows! You feel me?"

Foxy nodded. "Whatever Bossman says," she replied, eyes downcast.

Deborah was never more grateful than when Downe deposited her in an Uber.

"Make sure you walk her to her door," he instructed, handing the driver a fifty.

As the car sped away, Deborah looked in the rear window, watching the trio venture deeper into the red light district. Head spinning, she watched the evening traffic and looked forward to the safety of her studio apartment. A half-hour seemed like twice that but finally, with the help of the driver, she was safely in her own home, door locked. It was only eleven but it felt much later as she undressed and crawled into bed, not even attempting to put on her oversized Forbes U sleep tee.

God, I need a shower, she acknowledged, though she made no move to leave her bed. She still felt Downe's invisible grip on her body and it revolted her. Being pawed in private was bad enough, but in public, even a dive bar like Shooters... in front of people she worked with. Not that they had been treated much better. Val had seemed ok with it. Jada-Foxy-certainly was. Amber had just seemed... broken.

Why hadn't she said something? Deborah knew the answer. Even if she did demand he restrain himself and he actually did, she'd pay the price later. Her paycheck would be riddled with deductions she could simply not afford. It was a compromise she'd made with herself in private with him, but tonight had broken past a new barrier. He was going to treat her like an object in public now and she had no idea how to counter him.

Without thinking, she fumbled at her nightstand, withdrawing the candle she knew was there.

I HATE HUNTER DOWNE, she thought, even as she urgently slipped it between her legs. Her body had been betraying her from the second gin and tonic-and her boss's casual, impersonal groping.

I'm tired, drunk and... horny, she hazily realised as she pleasured herself fitfully before finishing and drifting off to blessed slumber.